Innocent Accomplice
by Neonette
Summary: A part of the Joker's life describing the beneficiary who helped to bankroll some of his crimes. Rated M for violence and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

"Please state your name for the jury

"Please state your name for the jury."

"My name is Christine Hinson."

"Please tell the jury how you know the defendant."

The young woman shifted in her seat before answering, "He lived on my estate for roughly five years."

"Can you point to the defendant and state his name for us, please?"

Christine straightened her back and elegantly raised her arm to the defendant's chair. "There. The Joker."

The Joker breathed a heavy sigh. It wasn't supposed to be like this; they weren't supposed to be here. But they were, and now he would lie for the way that she had lied for him for so many years. He would protect her the way that she had protected him.

5 years ago.

The damn Bat had foiled yet another one of his plans. The Joker was now running through a warehouse searching desperately for an out. He threw boxes and Joker Venom behind him when he thought he heard the cops gaining on him. Batman had already taken most of his henchmen out of commission and the cops were quickly collecting the rest of his idiots.

He finally found an out. It was a back door and it gave him two options: run through the city or run through the woods. Never the idiot, the Clown Prince of Crime shot off through the woods. He knew they would chase, but at least he had a fighting chance out in the wild.

He hid in the bushes as the cops came by with their flashlights. No dogs; thank god there weren't any dogs. When they had passed, he took off in the opposite direction. He ducked in and out of bushes and trees, even though he hadn't seen a flashlight in over fifteen minutes. He let his guard down and walked through the trees and brush.

"_bark bark bark!"_

_Damn_, he thought as he looked over his shoulder. In the distance he could see their bobbing flashlights and could clearly hear those damn police mutts. The Joker took off running again. He jumped down a gully and rolled through the leaves. His suit would surely be ruined, but that was trivial considering he was facing jail…again. He looked around for a new hiding place and saw a large manor in the distance. It was completely dark, despite the early hour. He decided it must be abandoned and ran for it.

When he reached the house, the barking dogs were a mere whisper and he could no longer see the glow of the cops' flashlights. He found a ground window and broke it in with his arm and climbed. It was a dark room with sheets over the furniture. It looked like it might have been a parlor of some kind with one of the covered shapes looking like a piano. The draped furniture reassured him that the house was deserted. He opened the door and stepped out into the quiet hallway.

He looked up and down and saw nothing but moonlight streaming in through the windows. The Joker picked a direction and began to move. The deserted home would not be his haven for long. He found a door across from the entry way. It looked like there was light in the room, but he assumed it must be moonlight from a large window. He heard the dogs again; time to leave. He burst the doors open and moved toward the window. But his movement was abruptly halted and he froze no more than two steps into the room.

There was a standing candelabra next to dark chaise lounge. On the lounge reclined an expertly posed woman in a cream sating nightgown with a weathered book in her hand. She had dark hair that dripped over one shoulder and gently moved as she lifted her head and caught him in a cool stare. Her dark eyes penetrated his stained face and showed no fear. The Joker stared back and held back the own fear his eyes held. It bothered him that she wasn't screaming, that she was staring at him with all the confidence of a tiger on the hunt.

"You broke my window," she said in a strong, but not loud, voice.

The Joker could only stare back. His mind could not find a suitable response for this statement given his current state.

"Why?" she quietly demanded in the same cool tone.

The Joker had regained his composure by now and matched her gaze with a steely one and took slow steps toward her.

"The police are after me, and if you know what's good for you, you'll forget you saw me," he growled, determined not to let the petite woman have the upper hand in this situation.

She blinked slowly and then returned to the weathered book in her hand. The Joker backed away and moved toward the window.

"You know," she said as soon as he had turned his back, "instead of breaking another one of my windows, which are very expensive, you could opt for the hot shower and warm bed I'm offering you."

The Joker turned around. The woman was still absorbed in her book.

"So you can turn me in? Goodbye," he hissed and took another step toward the window.

"Now why would I do a thing like that?" she replied, still staring at her pages, "What good would that do me? You, on the other hand, intrigue me." She shut her book and rose from the chaise lounge with her back to the fugitive and began to walk to the entry way.

The Joker found himself intrigued by her and gave into his curiosity. If worse came to worse, he could easily overpower her and hold her as a hostage.

"And when the cops come knocking on your door for a little search?" he asked, interested on how she would field this question.

She turned and leaned her arm on the room's door. "Honey," she drawled, "I own the police and they don't set foot on my property without my permission. Now are you coming upstairs or do I have to arrange for two windows to be replaced tomorrow?"

A/N: So this is my first chapter, with a few more to follow to explain the opening. Christine is not intended to be a Mary-Sue, although she may come off as such in this chapter. Please review and let me know what you think so far!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Each chapter will begin with an opening scene from the courtroom as the first chapter did

A/N: Please remember that this story is rated M, and is inted for mature audiences only. Each chapter will begin with an opening scene from the courtroom as the first chapter did. The stars indicate the transition into the past.

"Miss Hinson," the prosecution continued, "can you tell the jury the circumstances under which the defendant came to live in your home?"

"He broke in and told me that he would kill me if I told anyone that he was there. I became restricted to my bedroom and the entry way. He forced me to go out and "act naturally" so as not to arouse suspicion." She told this to the jury in a matter of fact tone, not unlike the one she had used the night she first met the Joker.

"And how did the defendant ensure that you would return?"

"He would follow me on occasion and threaten me in secluded areas or threaten me when I came home. I'm not really sure how he did it; and that's what scared me the most."

"And the money?"

"He demanded that I fund his…operation, as he called it." Christine quickly stole a glance at the Joker. To anyone else, it looked like she was afraid of him.

He had been in the Hinson manor for only a few days now. He had spent most of his time there asleep, with food appearing just inside his bedroom door at meal times. It was on the fourth day he decided to get up and explore his new home. She must not have been kidding about owning the police; not only had they not come for him but the room looked like it had cost an easily half million to furnish and decorate.

_Daddy's girl…_ he mused as he looked around. He soon found that his suit had been cleaned and was neatly laid out for him. He was impressed at how good it looked and wandered into the bathroom, another testament to the owner's wealth. He quickly showered and shaved before dressing. He secured the knot in his tie and slicked his green hair back.

As he preened in the mirror, he began to wonder even more why the girl had taken him in. He remembered her look on that night; there was no fear in her face, not even surprise at his appearance. His mind drifted and he remembered the way her cream nightgown had pooled on the floor as she stood from the chaise lounge.

He walked back into the bedroom and looked for his weapons. He checked his coat, and then found he didn't need to. Every gun and knife he had packed was now neatly laid on a bench at the foot of the bed. He put the coat down and went to the window and drew the heavy curtains.

It took him a while for his eyes to adjust to the light. When he refocused, he could see the window gave a view of an inner courtyard with a large swimming pool in the center. To the side of the pool, he saw the young woman lounging in a bikini on a pool chair. She had on large dark sunglasses and looked asleep. For a minute, he pictured her with a large slit in her throat with blood gently streaming out. The thought made him smile and he decided to pay his heroine a visit.

She met him half way. The Joker would not get to cast the looming shadow over her that he had hoped would incite fear. Instead, she lifted her sunglasses and gave him a wry smile as they approached each other in the hallway.

"Look who's up," she purred as she came to a stop in front of him. She eyed his suit and had to admit that she liked it. "I saw you in the window and thought you might be heading down."

"Who are you?" the Joker demanded as he reached for his gun.

She expected as much and grabbed his gun hand as she pressed up against him for extra strength. She smiled when she saw he'd been taken by surprise.

"Not a very grateful clown, are we?" she said, her smile gone. She eased up and brushed passes him. "Christine Hinson, " she stated as she continued down the hall. The Joker stood there for a moment; that name was familiar.

"Not Christine Hinson as in the reclusive billionaire heiress who occasionally transforms into a boozing, partying, tabloid gracing, train wreck," he laughed.

She turned in the hallway and looked at him with those hunting eyes again, "So you've heard of me too, Mr. Joker. Dinner's at six; it's Chinese take out." With that, she found a corner and disappeared behind it.

_Christine Hinson_, the Joker thought as he glared across the table at her. He had only decided to stay at the table out of sheer curiosity. He had heard of her alright; who hadn't? Her family was up there with the Waynes as far as fortune and power went. She was famous in her own right though for her famed Dr. Jekyll and Miss Hyde personality. Most of the time, she was locked up in the family estate analyzing business investments. She'd inherited Daddy's brains and Mommy's looks, and Gotham expected her to be as bookwormish and sensible an adult as she had been a child. But what the city hadn't counted on was a rogue wild streak. Not often, but often enough to earn some attention, Gotham's sweetheart would hit the town like a veteran party girl. She'd dance, drink, fight, you name it, and then back into her castle she'd go, like it was all a dream. Sometimes, she'd even show up at business meetings the next day without a hint of what she had done or where she had been the night before.

The Joker wondered which part of her was harboring him. He stared at her as she ate her Chinese take out. She was also poring over a stack of papers, presumable stock reports. He also wondered how good of a set up he could get out of her. Not just money, but who could she put him in contact with to get his next plan rolling? Yes, he was already cooking up another crime. Something that would get the Bat's attention, but still have a hefty payout. He wondered if the Batman would come rescue Miss Hinson if he dangled her over a vat of acid or Joker Venom. The Joker smiled a sick smile to himself.

Christine lazily lifted her eyes to gaze at her guest. "Happy thoughts," she asked simply.

"Very," he replied as he raised a glass of wine to her. She responded in kind and smiled at him.

The next morning Christine found the Joker in her study. There were papers everywhere. At first she was annoyed and then a paper caught her eye. It was a drawing; they were all drawings. Some were of various machines, others looked to be floor plans or maps. She picked some up to examine them as she stepped further into the room. The Joker was sitting at her desk, absorbed in his work.

"Planning a murder?" she asked softly.

Not softly enough, though. The Joker whipped around and caught her by the throat. Instinctively, she grabbed at her assailant's hand as it firmly constricted her airway. The Joker dangled her a few inches from the ground for a moment before he realized who she was and let her crumple into a heap on the floor. Christine caught her breath there on the floor and the criminal took in her appearance.

Her long dark hair hung softly over her shoulders as she gasped for breath. Her eyelashes fluttered when she looked up at him from the floor. He liked the way she looked down there, with her shoulders hunched and arms on the floor. It was as close to frightened and submissive as he had yet seen her. Her strong demeanor had been constantly annoying him.

_Rich bitch…_he thought as he looked down on her. Her eyes were locked on his now, and they were fiery. She looked like she might spring back up and attack him herself. The Joker continued to glare coldly at her.

Christine slowly got up and brought herself to her full height in her four inch heels. She squared her shoulders and the Joker took in her pale blue sundress. He decided that it didn't suit his tastes at all. He wanted to burn it. Even the color was offensive to him.

"What do you need to make these plans work out?" she asked him in a businesslike tone.

The question took him by surprise. He could have easily killed her and made no apologies for it, and now she was offering help?

"How much?" she asked again, as if she was speaking to a child that didn't understand what she had said before.

"Upwards of ten grand," he finally replied, "…why?"

"It's yours," she told him, "as long as you do me one favor."

Here it was; the catch. He knew that things were too good to be true. He set his stained mouth into a firm red line.

"Do you know Mitchell Daniels, of Technicorp?" she asked him.

"Fucker got that limp when he forgot to send me a certain shipment," he growled.

Christine smiled slyly at him, "Good. Then I'd like you to finish what you started. Daniels just screwed me out of several thousand dollars, again, and I promised him that if he ever double crossed me again that he wouldn't live to tell about it. More than the money though, he's an annoying prick who thinks I belong in a sorority. Get rid of him and I will personally finance whatever needs you may have."

The Joker was now smiling himself. _Murderous rich bitch,_ he thought, and he began to like his new business partner.

"That's all?" he asked as he took a step toward her.

"That's all," she cooed in reply.

"Anything _special_…?"

"Rip. Him. Apart." Her eyes were cold now, but her smile stayed. The Joker gave her a ceremonious and dramatic bow.

"As you wish."

Murdering Mitchell Daniels seemed to have been their bonding moment. She and the Joker spent many evening in the library with a bottle of wine discussing the finer points of his various plans. Christine mostly listened. She seemed to most enjoy hearing his hatred for the Batman.

"It's too bad he doesn't have a little Batwife and Batlings," he mused to her one night, "some family I could torture. That would be fun."

"I assure you that being the Batwife is probably torture enough, if she even gets to move from Bat-girlfriend to Batwife," she'd replied flatly, "Can't imagine what woman would put up with it."

"No?" he asked, curious what her mind was up to.

"How could you possibly feel safe with a man like that? A man who will always choose to save the masses even if it means letting you die. A man who always has a priority above you on his list. A man whose only true love is the so called 'greater good'. No thank you, not me."

The Joker appreciated her thoughts and her company. Increasingly, he became fond of watching her by the pool from his window. If anyone ever held a candle to being his mental equal, she came the closest. As he watched her, he could almost feel her watching him back. She certainly wasn't hard to look at with her slim body and long legs. Her skin was a deep golden tan, a stark contrast to his own. He briefly thought of Harley. She was so much smarter than Harley, but certainly as insane, and she was far more beautiful.

One afternoon, the Joker woke late. He went to the window and did not see his vixenish financer. He wandered to her study; not there either. He found her nowhere on the premises, and became enraged.

He tore through the house with his knives, destroying what he could with them. After minute or so, the inanimate objects become dissatisfying and he craved blood.

The Joker spirited his way into the city, fully armed and on the hunt. He lurked down alley ways, slashing at the various homeless he found. He wanted something more prominent though, a victim that would get headlines. In the distance he heard the loud thumping music of a night club and moved toward it. The perfect place to find a good victim. Perhaps he'd find a young blonde and quietly slice her up and then place her back at a table as if nothing had happened. That would certainly cause an uproar and be extremely satisfying as he imagined the woman being Christine while he carved up the delicate flesh. He silently worked his way in through the back of the club and looked for his victim. The excitement of fresh murder made him grin. As he perused the scene a flash of purple on the bar caught his eye.

It was her. In a metallic purple cocktail dress that was shorter than short and showed a lot of cleavage. She was dancing with some other scantily clad women and had a half full cocktail in her hand. She downed the rest of her drink and threw the glass down before swinging around a pole and elegantly layering herself down on the bar. He couldn't hear her, but she had definitely ordered shots as a whole row appeared before from the bartender. She downed three before hopping off the bar and sauntering through the crowd. The men in the room stared at her ravenously and the Joker wanted to murder something more than ever. Her cocky attitude infuriated him, only he was allowed to be that cocky! He quickly formulated a new plan and left the club.

When Christine arrived home, she stumbled through the entry way, not bothering to turn on the lights. She'd barely gotten two steps in when she felt her arms wrench tight behind her back and the cold metal of a sharp knife under her neck. She was very drunk and had difficulty maintaining her balance.

"You weren't here," the Joker hissed in her ear as he yanked her to him and pressed the knife harder into her skin.

"I went out," she drawled calmly.

"You don't go out unless I say so," he continued to growl.

Christine began to laugh and nestled herself against him, "Is that so?"

The Joker removed the knife and violently threw her against the stairs. She whimpered and tried to get up. Instead, the Joker straddled her and pinned her arms above her head with one hand. Christine's back hurt with the stair that was pressing into it. The Joker leaned down, his body gently brushing her and whispered harshly into her ear.

"I saw you out there."

"I know," she whispered back and gently slid one of her long legs against the inside of his. He once again wrenched her from her resting place and threw her up against a wall. He held onto her waist and glared at her, her chest heaving up and down, eyes locked on his without an ounce of fear. She was nothing like Harley, Christine was ready to fight, that's what the look in her eyes had always been.

The Joker crushed her mouth in a searing kiss. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. She reciprocated in kind and wrapped her legs around his own slender wait as she tangled her fingers in his green hair. He lost himself in his own act and slid his hands under her short dress to support her from beneath. His red mouth moved down to her collarbone where he began to bit and suck. Christine moaned at the sensation and then found herself thrown on the entry way table where the Joker gave into his baser instincts with her.

Christine now lay naked on the cold stone floor of her entry way, her dress flung down there as well long ago. Her purple heels were all that remained on her body, save for some new bruises and other battle wounds. Her Clown Faced guest lay beside her similarly disrobed, seemingly asleep. She sat up and attempted to move for her dress. A strong hand caught her by the arm and she saw his sunken black eyes staring up at her. Silently, he guided her back to the floor until he was looming over her with his stained face.

"Do not go out alone," he said quietly. With that, he got up, collected his clothes, and walked up the dark stair way.

Christine smiled quietly to herself as his dark form disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So I know that people have read the second chapter, and if you're reading this, then don't deny it! Feedback is greatly appreciated, especially if you weren't happy with the way things went in what you just read. Remember, nothing gets fixed if no one knows it's broken! Thanks. –Neonette

"Did the defendant ever harm you?"

"Yes."

"Please explain to the jury."

"He would frequently beat me whenever the mood struck him. Frustrations in his own work or frustration with me," Christine explained as she tried to avert her eyes from the Joker.

In turn, the Joker also looked away from her. They'd had a good run together, and he was impressed that she was getting away clean, and as a victim no less! He could see the trial taking a toll on her though. He couldn't quite tell if she was sad for him or sad that their fun was ending.

***********

For two years now, the Joker had been successfully carrying out plan after plan. His hench team was rebuilt and he had a proper lair of his own for formulating and planning. He felt quite at home in his plush environment. Christine delighted in hearing about each of his murders and burglaries. She truly did have a screw loose somewhere in that pretty head of hers.

They played games with each other. It was something of a cat and mouse thing. Christine still went off without so much as leaving a note, and he often wondered if she was intentionally sneaking out. She did it for the reaction it got from him. She'd often tease him at home. One moment she was gently stroking his hair as she murmured suggestions of dismemberment and the next she was buried in the library and wouldn't so much as give him a look.

He didn't mind the games. Her flirtations were enough to give him an ego boost and her aloofness often served well to give him the focus he wanted. And then there were the nights he simply needed to have her. He loved the look on her face when he slammed her against a hard surface. The wall, a table, the floor, it didn't matter. She still got that helpless look on her face for a brief moment as the impact jarred her consciousness.

He loved it when she was helpless. She was very close to his intellectual equal, a situation that the Joker hadn't been in very often, but she definitely lost in a battle of strength. Her thin frame was her literal weakness. Those moments of brutal passion were the only times he ever felt he truly had power over her, and he hated it. He hated it even more because he actually enjoyed it and no matter how hard he hit her, she also enjoyed it. It was similar to someone else he once knew…

It was a slow October night when the confrontation occurred. The Joker had blown up one of Gotham's largest fire stations. He'd gotten a huge laugh out of the irony, but wasn't fully satisfied. There had been casualties, but not in numbers that would sear themselves into the public's memories for years to come. To him, it had been a boring victory. He sat in the library and toyed with the disengaged detonator. Christine was in her office poring over business reports and proposals and other trivial work.

A faint giggle made the Joker stop twirling the detonator. It was too girlish a sound for Christine. He stood from the leather chair and faced the library doors. Sure enough, there she stood as he knew she would be.

"Harley Quinn," he drawled as he took in her appearance. She wasn't clad in her usual red and black with the little bells hanging from her head. Instead she wore simple civilian clothes. She giggled again.

"Mistah J, I love your new accommodations," she laughed as she skipped to him, "So much nicer than that drafty old warehouse we was in."

"You're supposed to be dead," the Joker told her flatly. It was true; he had sent her off in a rocket himself.

"I know," she smiled up at him and ran a gloved finger down his chest, "but I just couldn't leave this crazy place without my puddin'."

The Joker rolled his eyes at her sappy response. If there had ever been any regret over killing her, it was all gone. He felt relief when suddenly he heard the clicking sound of heels coming toward them. He didn't know why he was relieved; perhaps it was the thought of someone else having to deal with Harley or being able to divert her attention while he smashed her brains in then made abstract art out of them.

"Hey, Jack," Christine called as she walked into the room. She'd named him a while ago, flat out refusing to refer to him as 'The Joker' on a daily basis. She was still reading a paper and didn't notice Harley right away. "Did you pull the robbery at Myers & Swift or do I need to worry about somebody ripping me off?"

Christine had looked up from her paper expecting to see the Joker, instead she found herself face to face with Harley. Harley was examining Christine in her chocolate pencil skirt and fitted blue sweater and quickly decided she did not like the intruder. Christine stared at Harley as if she were staring at any other person and remained poised and controlled.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" she quietly demanded of Harley.

"Honey, this is Mistah J's house and I'll do what I like in it," she quipped back confidently, "Who the hell are you?"

Christine crossed her arms and pursed her lips, "I'm Christine Hinson and I own a good portion of Gotham along with this house and most of the police. Your 'Mister J' operates out of my home as guest and as part of a stylized agreement." With her last comment she moved her eyes up to the Joker's.

Harley furrowed her brow and then looked up at her Puddin'. The Joker merely stared coldly at her and she gasped a little.

"Puddin'…?" she whimpered.

"I wouldn't hang around, Harley. Christine's not as – " the Joker began to explain to his simpering ex-girlfriend.

"Harley Quinn?" Christine interrupted with enthusiastic surprise. Harley turned her confused expression to the brunette Barbie doll. "I didn't recognize you without your costume. Never figured you for a blond." Christine was now smiling at Harley.

It was true. Harley had been unable to find a suitable replacement costume before tracking down the Joker. Besides, it had been easier to move through the city as a generic blonde. Harley now gave a wry smile to Christine.

"Heard of me?" she asked coquettishly.

"Of course," Christine replied smoothly as she slipped an arm around her newfound friend, "I love your independent work. Please say you'll stay for a while." Christine threw a rogue look back to the Joker as she led Harley out of the library.

The Joker was then left alone in the library. He was slightly worried about what had just happened. Women could be very inconvenient when they got together. He remembered the headaches that Harley and Poison Ivy had given him in the past and Christine had a hell of lot more screws loose than Ivy, maybe even more than Harley. He returned to lounging in the library and forgot about the incident for a while.

A few hours later Christine and Harley reappeared in the library. The Joker glanced lazily up at Christine. She was wearing a trendy of-the-moment purple mini-dress. He loved the way she looked in that color, but he made sure his actions betrayed his thoughts. Harley stood behind her, also decked out in a mini dress, but hers was an ice blue. Christine had obviously dressed her; he'd never known Harley to have a lick of good taste.

"We're goin' out Jack," Christine told him with a sly smile.

"Yippee," he mocked at her.

"Wanna come?" she asked, her smile broadening. He heard Harley give a little giggle.

"You two really need to leave the funny stuff to me because you're both lousy," he replied as he turned away.

"I mean it, Jack," she drawled and draped her arms around him, "It'll be fun. Grab your coat."

He'd thought she'd finally snapped…well more than already. He went with them out of sheer curiosity of what she had planned. Would they rob, kill, or cause general chaos? Christine drove and made sure that he and Harley were concealed in the backseat. Harley clinging to him like a wet rag with a dopey smile on her face. At least in her make-up she had been amusing; now she just looked like the dumb blonde that she was. Christine led them into the back of a dark and loud building. It was a club and the Joker was instantly disappointed. Christine had grabbed him in one hand and Harley in the other and drug them in behind her.

Surprisingly, no one even blinked at him as he was pulled through the crowd and onto the dark dance floor. Harley was too hypnotized by the lights and sound to be of any help to him. In the center of the floor, Christine grabbed him by his tie and began to dance for him. She shut her eyes and he watched as the music took her over. She reached a slender and tan arm up around his neck and she moved her body closer to his. He slowly began to move with her and glanced over at Harley. Harley was swaying herself but had an undeniable look of jealousy on her face. He grinned at her, the thought of her jealousy giving him simple satisfaction. Christine had turned her back to his chest, her movements reminding him of a stripper. She coolly stretched an arm out to Harley and beckoned for her to get closer. Christine moved away from the Joker and wrapped her arms around Harley and gently caressed her skin. Harley was utterly confused and bordering on frightened. The Joker simply settled into the shadows of the dance floor and enjoyed the show Christine was giving him.

He'd always enjoyed using Harley himself but found watching her be used by Christine to be just as satisfying. Christine burned holes into the mad psychologist's eyes as she moved with and around her. His first hope, upon Harley's arrival, was that the two ladies might attack each other. At the time it had sounded amusing, but what he was witnessing at this dark, strobing club was far more entertaining. Christine carried on like that for hours with Harley; the poor clown girl looking like she could hardly stand by the time the threesome finally left.

They entered the house with a lady on each of the Joker's arms. Christine and the Joker were wildly awake, laughing and joking through the vast corridors. Harley stumbled along with them trying to find a space to get a word in.

"Havin' fun, Jack," Christine breathed into his ear as they rolled along the walls. The Joker smiled his twisted smile and groped at her.

"Yes, indeed," he breathed back.

"It wasn't really a question, but I'm glad you agreed," she replied and then pressed into him with the full length of her body. She stood on tip-toe and peered over his shoulder at Harley.

"How are you holdin' up, Harley? Ready for a real party?" she asked the harlequin coyly.

"Actually," Harley whined, "I'm kinda tired."

Christine donned a look of sympathy and slinked over to a withered Harley.

"Sounds like we should go to bed," she drawled as she put her arms around the small blonde. Harley gave her a suspicious look. Christine ran her hands down Harley's bare arms and gently clasped her hands. The Joker saw panic flicker through Harley's eye, and he smiled in anticipation.

"Maybe I should crash somewheres else…" Harley stammered, but Christine quickly shut her up with a searing kiss. Harley's eyes nearly popped out of her head and the Joker widened his grin. Harley jerked herself away from Christine and glared wildly at her. Christine was laughing and smiling as Harley backed away.

"What the hell's wrong with you, you crazy bitch?!" Harley shrieked. The Joker sidled up behind Christine and smiled broadly at Harley.

"What's wrong Harley-kins? Don't you want to play?" he laughed at her. Harley crawled away along the wall as she watched Christine and the Joker laugh at her.

The Joker viciously yanked back Christine's head by her hair and began to brutally lick and bite at her neck. Her cruelty had been a huge turn on. He was through with Harley now; Christine had squeezed every drop of fun out of the former clown girl and now he needed to release his enthusiasm.

They never saw Harley again after that, although they did hear of some of her escapades. That night, they couldn't have cared less what happened to her. Christine made it very clear that Harley was nothing more than a plaything and when she was done it was the end of her.

They wrestled against the walls and on the cold stone floor. The Joker ripped her thin purple dress off of her on the library's leather couch. She pulled him close by his tie near the bookshelf and then tore it from him. He slapped her and dragged her up the stirs while throwing her against the banisters. She spit and clawed at him in retaliation when they reached the landing as she discreetly popped off the buttons of his shirt and vest.

***********

Yes, those had been good times, the Joker reflected. His memory of Christine humiliating Harley was one of his favorite escapades.

Their years were full of exhilarating and sinful nights like those. She had such a fire in her when they battled down to the skin. They'd enjoyed the fight even more than the passion, if the two could really be distinguished.

And then, in a moment of sheer stupidity (and there were no other words for it), it was all over.

A/N: Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated. The fourth and final chapter is coming soon!


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